White Noise
by Irkala
Summary: Something of a different vision I had of Namine's, "Maiden in the woods," concept.
1. Chapter 1

**Part I**

**A White Rabbit Shaped Space**

Often he'd wonder off into the woods, seeking to be under the strange shade and surreal nature of the gloomy place, frozen in time, settling like dust in silence. Something of a loner, the boy had a potent curiosity that on occasion drove him in to areas he shouldn't have gone, and this green dream was no exception. Just outside of town, outside of the circle of buildings and tramways, shaded from the twilight overcast, the trees around him whispered strange hymns and silent curses – akin to the rumors of mysterious magic and even a witch out among the sticks and leaves, a darkness in mystic abstract that threatened his very safety, that shook him in fear to his very bones. But the feeling pulled at him, and he couldn't resist following his curious energies as he imagined a _witch _out there, somewhere in the dark, among the plant life and odd shades and forms dancing in the treetops. According to local mumblings, a bizarre manor stood out there deep in the woods; it stood lost in time just like the land itself, silent and desolate, awash in a loneliness to some extent he was sure he could never imagine. Further, the alleged witch was said to live there as well, and he briefly thought of the large meat cleaver he had in his backpack. He hoped he'd never have to use it, as frankly, he was not prepared to encounter any sort of witch at all, no matter what his ego would have him believe.

"Even if I did find her, there's no guarantee she'd give me any time to use it," he whispered to himself, shivering briefly at the idea of her finding him first, of his weapon being completely useless. Though deep down, he was already pretty certain the weapon was useless anyway.

He was alone in this endeavor. What little friends he had were not interested in venturing out here in the slightest. And as he journeyed deeper and deeper into the woods, he noticed a creeping sensation that grew worse and worse as he passed tree after tree, as the air got heavier and darker. Now he was beginning to lose his confidence, and the visions of the horrible thing looming out here in the silence only made his anxiety exponentially worse. Deep in his heart, he couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, and above all, stalked. A witch? He wasn't sure, but the sensation of eyes on him was almost too strong as he kept pushing farther and farther.

Then he saw light in the distance.

Watching his footing amid the stuck out roots and muddy hallways between trees and bush, he carefully approached the clearing, listening to the silence for _her, _for_ it._

There, under an eerie twilight ridden sky, stood an ancient looking manor, decaying and withered like Death itself had touched the structure. Its windows were foggy, and unkempt bushes over growing along with their neighboring vines, consumed the walls of the entirety of the property. This building was far older than rumor suggested, in fact it looked like nothing had been out there for decades. The green of the woods bled into the built color of the manor, and he could almost hear it eating away at the sign of civilization, at this last beacon of reprieve out in the desolate air.

He felt his heart leap, seeing the faint shade of something staring at him beyond the glass. It was in his periphery, but he knew he indeed saw something. Putting down his backpack, he pulled out the cleaver. It clenched with a white knuckle grip, he packed up again and headed towards the door, his heart racing, his stomach up in his throat. He was terrified and yet he didn't really know why, he could simply sense the mysterious energies circulating around him. With the last shard of his courage he grabbed the doorknob and turned it, disappearing into the maw of the manor, into the darkness of that aged air. Uncertain and perplexed, he eagerly awaited his future in its creaking walls.

Standing in a dimly lit foyer, it starkly revealed its contents to him in the barely encompassing twilight that bled from the outside, or what little content it had in the rubble of its emptiness. To his left he saw a door, the only other exit from this level aside from the entrance behind him and the entrance to a courtyard also directly in front of him. The windows were so dirty he couldn't fully see the courtyard from where he was standing. A shiver went up his spine when he thought about going out there; something deep inside of him was conveying that stepping out there was a really dangerous idea, yet he hadn't the slightest idea why. He studied the shapes of the bushes through the translucent glass, imagining if the witch was perhaps out there. Standing there in the foyer eventually got old, especially as he thought about a witch wandering around. He needed to get out of there. Echoing footsteps quickly traveled throughout the foyer as he tried to muffle them the best he could, approaching the door to his left on the respective bottom floor. Looking up the stairs nearby, he imagined there were a few doors up there too – he'd rather not go up to the second level though, in fact as he pondered it more, he'd just as well get out of there as soon as possible. Still, his curiosity ate at him and he opened the door, heading into this unknown room.

A mess of silverware and table top items were scattered across the floor, some faithfully resting on a broken table also in the middle of the room. It was all still nicely decorated in ornate design, a thick layer of dust on everything around. There was a gaping window just in front of him that looked in on the scene with almost a bright glee, and he truly began to realize how silent the manor actually was. This was a mock dining room of sorts, and he quickly pieced together he should leave right then. The anxiety was skyrocketing at this point and he simply couldn't stay there any longer. He briefly chuckled at the thought of the meat cleaver in his hand and began making his way back, closing the door behind him and heading towards the entrance. The air began to heavy even more and a creeping darkness began to bleed into the foyer. He began to feel somewhat disoriented, dizzying up to the point where he needed to stop at a nearby empty pedestal for a brief break, spacing out at the doors to the entrance, imagining the strange woods outside waiting for him, calling him in peculiar tongues.

He struggled to catch his breath though, and as he stood there the room began to pulse. A strange life found its way into the woodwork and he began becoming somewhat fearful as the floor began to pulse and breathe like an entity, or so it looked, its patterns churning and morphing.

"Is this real?" He whispered to himself, watching surreal geometric shapes danced below him, as the space around him bent and warped.

"Don't go out there," a soft voice whispered from behind. All the same, he nearly leapt through the ceiling, frantically raising his cleaver and spinning around.

There, at the top of the left trail of stairs going to the second level, was a young girl. He couldn't believe his eyes. She had golden blond hair and as he approached slowly, in awe at that, he took note of her large, ocean blue eyes. She walked down the stairs a few steps as he got closer, the silence between them deafening. A cute smile rested on her face under a delicate gaze, her clear skin almost glowing in the odd twilight. She seemed a ghost, in fact she didn't seem real at all. He briefly envisioned a faerie princess sort, a forest elemental corporeally manifesting here in this empty manor. Her serene features and gentle eyes made him feel so oddly at ease that he nearly dropped his cleaver. He originally considered she may be the witch, but he felt those ideas dissipating as she smiled at him in that spinning foyer. Inspired by this new feeling of ease, he approached her a bit more, now all the more curious what she was doing there of all places. He'd never seen her around town, but she couldn't be anything but new to this area; someone so beautiful and memorable surely would've sparked interest in everyone. Yet, he'd heard nothing about new people moving in, or anything from his few more social peers at all. This girl's identity was a complete enigma for the time being. She looked at him with such an oddly peaceful gaze, and he felt the static like machinations of the forest white noise disappearing into a sort of sullen silence, hidden underneath her enchanting eyes.

Before he could utter a word she brushed back her hair, smiling at him again.

"Don't go out there," she said, looking off behind him, "There's a witch out there."


	2. Chapter 2

**Part II**

**The Dissonance Effect**

"A witch? How did you know about the witch?" he choked out, "What're you doing here anyway?"

He felt a brief wave of dread, like he wasn't supposed to ask that question. Almost as quickly it vanished, but he still remembered its tendrils; he still held on to that creeping curiosity with this girl.

She stared off through one of the windows by the entrance, a faint smile still resting on her face. Her white dress glowed like an angel's gown in the dim twilight. He kept experiencing strange pulses of calm as he stared into it, into the white flowing off of her ghostly clear complexion. He took a few steps forward, up the stairs, closer to _her._

"Everyone knows about the witch silly. They say she takes memories," she replied, looking down at him from her invisible heaven. She took a few steps down, "I thought something was following me through the woods so I had to settle here. I was pretty relieved when I found out it was empty."

He had felt that too as he wandered deeper and deeper. Maybe they had sensed the same thing.

"What were you doing in the woods?" he said, leaning back against one of the banisters that wrapped around the twisted staircase. He looked over and scanned his height; he was a good distance to leap over if the witch were to show up. He briefly chuckled to himself, amazed at how fearful he really was of an urban legend. The shadows hidden on the lower floors corners still weaved and churned on their own, and he tried to ignore the eerie dancing as he turned back to her, awaiting her answer. Her smile lit up again and she took a few more steps down, on his same step now. He felt himself push back against the banister, still not fully certain he could trust this girl. She was far too strange.

"What were _you _doing in the woods?" she countered, smiling wryly.

"Looking for a witch – to be blunt," he said, remembering the meat cleaver he was white knuckling again. That came out awkward, but what was more awkward was the toothy smile appearing on her face afterwards.

"You believe in that junk?" she sneered, "I was only kidding. I was just going for a walk." She took a step and a half up and moved forward, leaning against the banister next to him, still above him, still looking into the crimson orange light outside pouring in. His face felt hot as he realized how much of an ass he'd made of himself. Even though it was true, and even though deep down he believed in the myth, with an almost unsettling certainty at that, he still knew how ridiculous he sounded.

"I was too obviously," he _lied_, holding up the enormous blade in his right hand, "This is just for protection. There's some shady people out here sometimes. Anyways I can't believe you wandered this far out here alone." He really couldn't, in fact as calming as she was to be around he still couldn't shake the odd thought of her being out here alone without any sort of protection. The woods around the town had a lot of unexplored and dense area, a lot of people get lost every year and he suddenly recalled that he too, to an extent, was lost as well. Something was off, but even moreso, if she sensed the same presence he did than they very well may have been being chased.

By what though?

He turned to the window, the same one she was staring out of so blissfully. The sun hadn't moved. In fact, time seemed almost frozen he realized. The sinking feeling grew as he began to gather that the sun hadn't actually moved at all since his journey's start into the woods. Here, now, it was etched in a sort of atmospheric stone; the world had stopped spinning and the air came to a creeping still.

"You're a bad liar. That's okay though," she said.

He could still feel her toothy grin _looking _at him through that mocking tone. Suddenly, he felt an odd and sharp pain in his temples, a sort of buzzing going almost in tune to the manor's silence. Reaching up he pinched his nose's bridge, "I don't need you to believe me. I do probably need to be getting home soon though." Realizing how much he wanted to get out of there, he figured it was time to speed this up and get out as fast as possible. He wanted to perhaps ask her to come along, but something in him kept him silent.

"You can't leave here yet!" she exclaimed, turning to him with a somewhat mortified expression, her blue eyes shimmering an eerie tone in the twilight, "The witch may be out there!"

"You said you didn't believe in any of that stuff!" He scoffed, looking over at the increasingly beckoning entrance.

"I don't, but it still isn't a good idea," she replied, taking a few steps down. He realized how close she was getting to him and froze up as she grabbed his cleaver-free hand. Her skin was cold, a cold he couldn't quite describe. His vision blackened and he saw the infinite blackness the witch crawled from; a withering and whispering husk that had emerged from the primordial chaos, a shade from the netherrealms dripping curses and blasphemous incantations. He could see insanely complex fractals and dark shapes churning in this ether, and in the moment he observed it he felt eons go by, universes fold and unfold in the eternal pulse that the very manor he was just in had breathed. He gasped and almost fell, the girl kneeling down with him. Such a phantasmagoric daydream, such an involuntary glimpse into the other-world, a peak onto the planes the witch herself may walk on.

"Are you okay?!" she said, putting her right hand on his face. It was soft, and it had an oddly warm touch to it – as if the cold he had just felt was imagined.

He couldn't speak, he could barely wrap his head around what he'd saw. Had he imagined it? Was any of that real at all? Where did it come from? She stared at him with a worry in her eyes that he was uncertain of. Was that from _her? _

"There's no way," he struggled out, trying to catch his breath, "That was really strange –" he stood up, her following suit, "I really should get going, I don't feel well and it's getting late." He was beginning to become more and more fearful, his paranoia climbing higher and higher with every breath he took, with every blink of her beautiful blue eyes. At this point he didn't care if she saw how uncomfortable he was, what he'd just experienced and what this place was he didn't want anything to do with. He turned and began heading down the stairs to finally leave.

"Wait! Please! Don't go out there. Please come up with me for a bit, I don't want to be here alone," she exclaimed heading down the stairs after him, a serious panic on her face. He silently turned, studying her face, looking for cracks, for _holes _in her foundation. It wouldn't be right to leave her there, or so he forced himself to remember. But he really had no interest in staying there in that death trap. The space was distorted, the air _crooked; _this place was beyond help.

"What? You came out here alone!" he quickly rebounded, "I-I'm leaving. I really need to go. Come with me," he said. They were face to face now, and he felt a sick dread at the almost overwhelming aesthetic perfection she had, her eerie beauty and all of its cryptic subtleties.

"I can't! I'm sorry. I want to explore just a little more. We won't get our memories taken. There's one more room I haven't seen yet and I don't want to do it alone," she replied, giving him a vaguely pouty expression. The sooner they saw it the sooner they could get out of there and away from this place. He could barely take the idea of actually going upstairs with her, of actually staying in there a minute longer, but he couldn't leave her there with that _thing _looking for prey, or whatever the hell was looming around the manor. The quicker he could get them out and onto the homeward path the better. He wanted to curse her for not bringing an extra weapon though.

"Fine. Quick. I want to get the hell out of here," he huffed, passing her and heading up the stairs. She was immediately next to him, and she eventually sped up as they reached the tops of the steps. She grabbed his hand once more and began leading them to a door tucked off to the upper level's left – to the entrance's left that is. He didn't have any visions this time thankfully, but his arm was unusually uncomfortable in her delicate grasp, which this time was the same warm her hands were on his face earlier. The air here was still the same, and the paintings and antiques littered or barely standing here or there reinforced the sullen and alone feeling this place so vented. Looking down into the foyer, so dimly lit in that soft daylight, he felt timeless for a second, everything somewhat blurred into the sounds of her soft footsteps on the ground. They had gone around the side path and ended up at the tucked in door, so contently and quietly resting alone. It looked _off,_ but he couldn't see any actual structural issues with it. He briefly remembered the weird patterns and illusions the floor and other contents mesmerized him with earlier, once again recalling how warped this place truly was.

"Well here we are, the last room. What if the witch is in there?" she turned to him and snickered, no doubt trying to coax a response out of him. Still, the thought did frighten him, and he couldn't deny that he just may just turn and run if the witch did in fact turn out to be in there.

"Let's hope not," he mumbled, remembering he was armed – to an extent. Obviously it wouldn't have much of an effect on a witch; this whole thing wasn't planned out well at all it seemed.

She reached towards the door.

"Hey, what was your name again anyway?" he said, pulling her back. Unsettling enough he felt like he'd asked her already, or maybe she'd told him, yet he couldn't remember anything if so. He tried recalling bits of their meeting earlier, of the conversation that followed even; it all seemed so fuzzy and disconnected. She looked somewhat astonished he'd asked. Staring at him, she faintly smiled again. It seemed hollow, double edged in some aspect. He got a very uncertain vibe from it, and for a brief moment his heart sunk again. There was no reason not to trust her, but his body seemed to be doing what it could to repel from her. He must have been imagining it, but he couldn't honestly tell what was and what wasn't real anymore, at least not in that cursed manor. The walls enclosed a surreal reality that was suffocating them both and it was taking too long to leave.

Turning back to the lonely door she reached out and grabbed its handle. She was silent a moment, then softly she whispered,"It's Namine, remember that."


End file.
